258. I Cannot Move

I,…I cannot move.

I peer into a little house,

A house I’ve seen before.

Am I alive? How’s it therefore?

If I do not move?

I,…I cannot move.

I cry inside, but no one hears,

Or can see, what-there hides.

In the small house of homicides.

Cannot make a move.

I,…I cannot move.

I feel that you are near to me,

Though I cannot reply.

For in that house I’m killed and die,

Never more to move.

I,…I cannot move.

I peer and see my fear and freeze…

In time,…I can’t escape,

Or my spirit run from its’ rape.

I,…I cannot move.

Shake and wake me from this nightmare.

I long to feel secure.

Oh, please hold me and reassure.

For, I cannot move.

I,…I cannot move.

Rescue me from this little house,

Cover my bloody eyes.

Tell me all those sights are just lies.

(I beg! I want to live!)

Please help me to move!

K. Aldaya, 02/03/14

Picture: from “Missing You” in ockoala’s photobucket; http://s966.photobucket.com/user/ockoala/media/Missing%20You/MY9mp4_000725491.jpg.html

257. An Ants’ Life

I always get lost in crowds.

I never stand out.

Sometimes I do for things I wear,

But that’s not what it’s about.

(If not for that) I am fast lost,

Into the crowds of day.

There is nothing special of me,

At least that I can say.

I am yet another ant,

Trampled by the Gods.

Slaving under the hot sun,

Or spiting those same Gods,

For creating us to suffer:

To exist to feel,…

To feel so sad in crowds,

One does not want to feel;

Want to feel so lonely…

Or want to be an ant.

I,..I want to be a butterfly,

With vibrant wings with which to fly.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://flywithmeproductions.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Girl-Butterfly-Light.jpg

256. The Silence of the Birds

Here I am so lonely.

No one really cares.

I’m just out here surviving.

Why is it no one dares?

To talk to me, or know,

Who I am or long to be?

Or simply say hello,

When they walk on by me?

I’m tired of surviving,

Of doing the right things.

Of saying hello and smiling;

For me, no one does these things.

And yet, they are so simple;

I do them every day.

Though I doubt yet one would call to me,

If I were to walk away.

If I turned and walked,

Up the stairs some more.

And to the top emerged.

And loudly closed the door.

And walked slowly each step…

Tip-tap with the clock.

And softly closed my eyes.

Pondering the tick and tock.

And as the wind,

From the North,

A cold and icy thing,…

Blew, I would step forth,

—-No more to sing.

K. Aldaya, 1/19/14

Picture: “Girl on the Edge” by Tom Ryaboi: http://www.tomryaboi.com/; http://camyx.com/exposure/2013/11/tom-ryaboi-atop-skyscrapers/

255. Never Enough

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I see.

I dream.

Why are dreams so tough…..

To hold?

To keep?

Yet so easy to create.

I dream.

You dream.

Though dreams can’t fight fate.

And still.

We hold.

Struggle to grasp with two hands.

Our souls,

So deep.

Walking the line ‘tween two lands.

Was made.

Alive.

Hoping beyond all odds.

Destroyed,

And dead.

Both am I; and my head nods.

To earth.

To dust.

My creator and my exterminator.

My love.

My hate.

My lower and my greater.

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I hope.

I dream.

And dig in the dirt so rough.

My hands.

They bleed.

For the earth to feel me.

My soul.

It cries.

For the dreams which with dust will bury me.

I am.

I exist.

No it’s never enough for me.

No life.

No death.

I long for my dreams to be free!

K. Aldaya, 12/1/13

Picture: “Dirty Hands” by Aaron on dailypayne.com; http://dailypayne.com/dirty-hands

254. Too Sensitive

“Why are you so sensitive?”

Have you heard this before?

Has someone told you to toughen up;

To solidify your core?

Have you ever asked them,

Exactly what that means?

What’s the definition of too weak or ‘soft’?

And is the thought meant to demean?

Is being kind and feeling deep,

Something ugly and dirty?

Is being mean and cold,

Great in higher degree?

As far as I have heard or seen,

Being cold and feeling little,

Is best seen in psychopaths;

They love to belittle!

So when someone says this to you.

You should smile and sarcastically say,

“So you’re a psychopath, I guess,

And want to feel that you’re okay?”

That you are not the only one,

Who doesn’t care at all?

That there is nothing wrong with that?

Don’t feel for others….feel at all?

Well, I’m sorry but it’s not okay,

To feel nothing when you yell,

Manipulate and use words,

Whose point is to hurt like hell.

Of course hurtful words hurt,

That’s why they are called such.

Are you telling me they don’t hurt,

Unless I let them do such?

Isn’t this just another way,

Of blaming the victim?

You were punched: “Why did it hurt?

Why did you feel pain, you victim!

You shouldn’t have let it hurt.

Why are you so sensitive there.

To feel pain or anything.

It’s superior not to care!”

The way I look at it,

If there were just people like you.

Our species would be long extinct.

All killed ‘fore a day was through;

Because if people did not feel,

And this statement never said,

The world would be doomed,

And everyone long dead.

So by that logic being ‘soft’

Is superior and best.

Only by caring for others,

Has our species progressed.

So “Why are you so sensitive”,

Should never be heard.

Yet if it is I point my nose,

And state, “Oh, How absurd!”

K. Aldaya, 10/14/13

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://www.omgnews.ro/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/tu-simti.jpg